Irresponsibilities
by Does You No Good
Summary: Kolyat learns what it means to be a father.


A/N: This was a prompt in the kinkmeme on LJ. A dear anon wanted to see how Kolyat would handle suddenly being the sole carer of a child, with his perspective on things. I hope I did it justice.

Irresponsibilities

The message was brief but the skilfully manipulated language used verified that it _was_ the hanar contacting him. The message, when traced, had originated in Kahje. It wasn't forged and the hanar had no reason to lie to him.

Time slipped as he re-read the message. The Citadel entered the night cycle – he had failed to report for duty to Bailey and would be reprimanded, reminded again that the Commander was the only thing between him and a 'long-ass time in prison, son'. That fact and everything before it, everything leading to this point, had momentarily faded into insignificance as he continued to read. Comprehension wasn't beyond him: surrealism had settled over everything. Simply put, for the first time since youthful determination had crept up on him, Kolyat just didn't know what to do. The shock, maybe, had pushed him into that instinctual response of dwelling on the factors, the _things_ that led to this precise moment.

He remembered the woman the hanar named in their message. He remembered shy, tired smiles directed at him whenever he attended prayer at Amonkira's temple. She admired his ferocity, she wanted it herself. He remembered pale green skin in a faint light, trying to avoid her eyes, ignoring her light fingers at his jaw. He turned his face away, closed his eyes and gripped the sheets as he found his release. He was uncertain if she'd found hers, was privately ashamed for that. They would meet again regardless. Neither had a more meaningful connection waiting for them. "It's still loneliness," she said. "But it's a different kind. Novelty and variety make it preferable." He never told her that he agreed, never confided in her that he wanted better for both of them; he never told her anything. She had been similarly secretive since they parted ways, once their mutual loneliness had begun to wear on them both as much as their exclusive, solitary states – this message was the first he had heard of her in years.

She had gone to the deep and left behind a son that she claimed was his.

It was what he imagined being pitched into space would feel like. He couldn't stand. He couldn't find stability in anything. He floated, feeling senseless as he tried to consider the depths of this. The hanar she had named her executor had verified everything – they wouldn't have contacted him if they hadn't – and wished for his input in the child's fate.

His son – yes, his son – was barely a child. He was just starting school, at that crucial point in between where he needed to learn to communicate with the language he had been given. Basic social interactions needed to be learned. These were the years that would shape his future. Kolyat had the final decision, the deciding voice in whether or not the child would grow up with a parent or only the memory of one. The hanar would raise him, train him if Kolyat wouldn't. It didn't need to be his responsibility. He didn't need to concern himself with this in the least. That knowledge was appealing: it _felt_ cowardly on some level that he couldn't recognise, but he wasn't prepared to take responsibility for another person's life. He made a basic living. He wasn't level-headed enough to make good choices for himself. He was less than a thug, only a free man due to a technicality and a lot of fancy paperwork. He knew nothing of what it took to be a father. By the time the night cycle had well and truly settled over the Citadel, Kolyat had begun to draft his response. 'Thank you for informing me, however-'

Then he thought of Thane.

x

His son's name was Vasaed.

The hanar executor travelled with the boy to the Citadel. Kolyat waited for them at the security checkpoint, not the dock. He was sure that was a bad decision. He would remember it as one. He was starting with regrets. It only occurred to him then that this was likely how he would spend most of his time, now – second-guessing, uncertain, silently berating himself.

He still wasn't ready when the two of them came into view. Vasaed walked behind the hanar with short, quick steps on legs that were already growing too fast for him to be comfortable in. His eyes were wide and dazed as he took in everything around him. He had his mother's light-green skin, Kolyat's own bone structure. His face was narrower than either parent's had been. He carried a small bag of belongings that couldn't contain more than two changes of clothes and a few personal effects – that was expected; his mother hadn't been rich or even comfortable when Kolyat had known her.

There were quite possibly no other drell on the Citadel; there certainly weren't any others at the security checkpoint. The hanar approached him slowly so as to give his son the chance to keep in pace without making him run. "This one assumed that you are Kolyat Krios?"

"You must be the executor." Stating the obvious was necessary, as there was nothing else to say. The drop-off was verified in accordance with the few demands of Kahje bureaucracy – a code entered in a data pad, witnessed by the security officer at the gates, and so on. Vasaed watched the proceedings curiously but silently. Had he been raised to behave like this, or was his silence a sign of grief? Maybe it was stubbornness. Kolyat paid more attention to the unfocused, inquisitive boy than anything else.

With its business done, the hanar departed immediately. It had no other reason to be on the Citadel. That left Kolyat with his son, still not alone but at that point where they had to acknowledge each other for the first time. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't even considered this part. He'd done so little to prepare for this.

He knelt down and tried to ignore the security officer behind him. Tried not to think of all the ways he could ruin this. Was Vasead able to recall every moment perfectly yet? When were children fully adept with their eidetic memory? Why hadn't he started researching this when he first agreed to take full custody? The questions he should've asked himself days ago then started blotting out the words he'd intended to say then and there, leaving him with absolutely nothing to draw on but a deepening pit of uncertainty.

Thankfully, his son wasn't self-aware enough for that degree of doubt and embarrassment just yet – he spoke the first words that would be shared between them. "You're my father? Mother never told me about you."

"Yes. It's…it's an interesting turn of events for both of us. I didn't know about you until recently either."

"My name's Vasaed."

"Kolyat Krios. You don't have to call me 'dad' unless you're comfortable with it."

"Okay." He shuffled with his little bag over his shoulder, still without any pretences or worries or embarrassment. "Am I a Krios too?"

"I understand your mother gave you my surname. You can use hers if you want to."

"That's okay. Where do I live now?"

It was confusing, Vasaed's compliance. He wasn't so young that he couldn't comprehend what had happened. Didn't he feel any sense of loss? Why was he so wide-eyed and curious, asking questions all the way to the Wards, at a moment where most would have been solemn and withdrawn? He didn't know, but worse than that he had no idea how to ask.

x

Vasaed didn't talk about his mother. Kolyat began to worry about it. Shouldn't he be grieving? Was there something wrong with him? Should a psychiatrist be involved (and how was he going to scrape together the credits for _that_)? Was this just how the child behaved normally? There was little information to be found on raising children by the traditions of his people – their insular practices and tightly-knit support systems cut him out of the loop. He was tempted to contact the only other parent he kept in contact with and make a plea for just a scrap of help, even if it wouldn't necessarily apply to Vasaed: Captain Bailey had a kid, and he might be human but he was the most held-together and competent man Kolyat knew. The knowledge that their working relationship would only become awkward if he attempted that stopped him. For a sparse moment, he considered Thane. That idea was dismissed even more quickly. What would ihe/i know about parenting, about trying to understand his own child?

Contacting Thane would also mean admitting Vasaed's existence to him. There was one thing Kolyat resolved to protect Vasaed from, even if he couldn't get anything else right – abandonment. That was why he'd agreed to this in the first place. Thane wouldn't ever know about this if Kolyat had anything to say about it. The first thing he'd done to prepare for Vasaed's arrival was scare off Mouse: if Thane was keeping an eye on him, it was through that son of a bitch. It was also another reason why he didn't ask Bailey or in any way confide in the other man. Commander Shepard would tell his father anything he heard about Kolyat: Bailey respected Shepard, spoke highly of him. He'd brought up once or twice how he'd contacted Shepard and mentioned that he'd passed Thane's contact details on to Kolyat, trying to push him into making a call or sending a letter.

He didn't believe for a moment that Vasaed would be kept secret forever. Kolyat just…he needed time. He needed to figure out how to be a parent before everyone started watching and _judging_ his capabilities. With a good head-start, he could do this. He _could_. He just didn't want to think about being assessed while he figured it out.

Beyond that, Vasaed needed time. To grieve? Maybe, maybe not. But he still needed to adjust.

He prayed. Given that his mother had attended Amonkira's temple, served there as an acolyte, Kolyat wasn't surprised. Vasaed prayed when he woke, before he did anything else in the day. It was the one thing Kolyat could see that would have been impressed on him by his mother. Beyond that, his son didn't seem to know what else to do. He hovered, uncertainly, in the small living space Kolyat could afford to keep. He had a toy, just one, but he didn't seem inclined to play with it. It was new, something the hanar gave their children – it wasn't from his mother, it wasn't picked by him.

It made day-to-day moments awkward. There wasn't much room in the apartment, so they'd often be in the same room sitting in complete silence. That bothered Kolyat, not just because of the uncomfortable and absolute lack of conversation. Vasaed should have something to do, even something mindless. Something distracting. What was he going to do otherwise? Stare and wonder at his new parent? Pray some more? He could try to engage the kid in conversation, but what about? His dead mother? That was their only common ground. After a few days of uncomfortably trying to find the kid something to do, Kolyat pulled a few suggestions together and tried to suggest them.

"You don't want to watch a vid or anything?"

"I don't know what to watch."

"You don't have a favourite show or...?"

"I wasn't allowed to watch vids."

Oh. Right. Some parents favoured a disciplinary approach, controlled what their kids would see. They tried to suspend that childlike innocence as long as possible. Kolyat considered it, but he already had the child lock on the extranet. Vasaed wouldn't see anything that a kid shouldn't, he figured. "If you ever want to watch something here, it's alright." He didn't say anything to that; he just looked kind of like he was thinking about it. Trying to gauge this decision. Kolyat didn't wait to see whether the kid chose to like it or not. The silence would get uncomfortable. "What about something to read?"

"I'm still learning."

Of course. So much for all those kids books he'd bought. "Well…" Well _shit_. He fidgeted, lacing his fingers together and releasing them intermittently. He tried to think. What did kids like? He tried to think of what he'd been like, what he'd done when he was that small. The solution struck him amidst a memory – his mother with a data pad full of symbols he wouldn't recognise independently for years, sitting him on the floor next to her outside of their home. Basking in sunlight, laughing when she made up funny voices for the characters as she narrated a story for him. When he came back to himself, he knew he wasn't going to be able to find sunlight on the Citadel, and he didn't know about making funny voices, but that didn't knock the rest of the idea out of the realm of possibility. "How about I read to you?"

Vasaed evaluated this idea like all the others: slowly and carefully. Kolyat tried not to frown. Didn't children just decide with snap-to-judgement when they wanted to do something? He remembered that he had. Eventually, Vasaed nodded once. "Do you want to?"

"Sure." It beat trying to dredge up a third idea. He dragged his data pad off of the coffee table and started flicking through the books he'd purchased. "What did you want to hear about? I got a few stories you might like…let me find that directory…"

Vasaed, who'd been sitting at the dinner table, came over and sat next to him on the couch. He did his best not to show surprise at that. "What's that one say?" Pudgy little fingers pressed too hard on the screen. He couldn't help wincing at that. With the cost of putting together the kid's room, he couldn't afford anything breaking right now. "It's got a hanar on the graphic."

"'Blasto Saves Christmas: the Movie Adaptation'? Well, uh…hey, it's not like either of us really observe that holiday anyway, so why not read it in the middle of the year." Figures the kid would gravitate towards hanar. He put that bit of information aside to reference later. "Want anything to eat before we start?"

"I'm okay."

"Alright then. Uh, let's see…come on, _load_ already…"

x

School was conducted differently in the Citadel to what he remembered on Kahje. There were fewer students per teacher, larger classes, less specific lessons and subjects. Children attended for a shorter time and took more schoolwork home. It had posed more problems for him, since he had to take the time in the middle of the day from reporting in at C-Sec or dropping whatever leads Bailey had him chasing in order to pick up Vasaed. Some children were permitted to walk home without anyone accompanying them. Kolyat knew better, knew what was in the Wards. That lack of supervision might be fine for a turian or human child, even a waddling little volus, but not a drell. Not in the Wards. Too much of a target, too much risk. So Kolyat had to learn to get creative with his lies, flexible with his excuses.

He thought it was working, but Bailey was getting suspicious. Worrying that he was turning back to the idea of becoming an assassin? Law enforcement was rife with mistrust – usually warranted, but it played out poorly. Bailey didn't confront him. He sent a tail instead, one that wouldn't be easily traced back to C-Sec.

That was what Kolyat surmised when he saw Mouse out of the corner of his eye, watching him as he waited at the front of the school amidst all the other parents. He reacted, but unperceivably to a human – a hanar or another drell would have noticed his shifting eyes, the spasm in his jaw, but human eyesight wasn't that sharp. _Mouse_ wasn't that sharp. Right now, if he wandered away to report the only thing he'd take back to Bailey was that Kolyat was sitting out the front of a school. Even if he pretended he'd just been thinking, walked away and shook Mouse off to come back and pick up Vasaed later, Mouse would still go back to Bailey with what he'd seen by this point. Mouse mightn't think very hard about why Kolyat was loitering at the front of a school, but Bailey was smarter: he wouldn't think Kolyat was anywhere without an intention. He'd check the schools records, find the lone drell attending. Kolyat might've registered Vasaed under his mother's surname, but that wouldn't stop Bailey from putting two and two together. He'd know. And then Thane would know.

There was no way in the great ocean's fathomless depths that Kolyat would let that happen. Not like that. Not yet.

He waited for a two parents – a human couple – to pass by where he waited. He wasn't a masterful assassin, but he knew how to lose a pair of eyes that were on him. He slunk away, taking a wide berth towards Mouse. The man stood there, confused, looking left and right and straight ahead. Not considering for a moment that his mark had seen him, was already almost in arm's reach of him.

And yet _Mouse_ was the one Thane had tried to train.

"There's a possibility I'm wrong," he said quietly at Mouse's shoulder. The other man jerked like he'd been electrocuted, spun around and very nearly yelled something. Kolyat stabilized him with a hand on his shoulder, and shut him up with a winding strike to the gut. Mouse wheezed, crumpled a little. Kolyat scanned the other parents milling around the school, waiting for their children to be dismissed – none of them were paying attention, they were too far away to be heard. Good. He looked back at Mouse, who was trying to straighten up, and cut to the chase. "You're following me."

"I'm just _standing_ here-"

"No, not you. Not the likes of you. You're defensive as well. So I was right: you're following me. You've been put up to it, because you don't have a reason to follow me on your own. I want to know who."

Mouse tried to scavenge up some backbone. He straightened up a bit, levelled a glare at Kolyat. Still didn't do anything about the drell's hand on his shoulder. Idiot. "Why would I tell you a thing?"

"If it was someone dangerous commissioning you, you'd have hinted at that. Refused outright. So it's either Bailey or Thane. Either way, I don't want you reporting back. So this means we have a problem, _Mouse_."

Denial came next. "I didn't see anything! I'm not-!"

"Don't play me for an idiot, and keep your voice down." He moved back, hoping to disguise his eyes darting towards the school again with the motion. No sign of Vasaed yet, but some of the children were starting to meander out of the building. He had to make this quick. "Whoever you're reporting to, you're going to lie a little to them. You followed me from C-Sec to the Wards. You saw me go home. I was still inside when you gave up. I'll know if you tell anyone otherwise."

Defiance. "How? How will you-?"

"Because if you do, Thane will come here again unless I'm lucky. And I'm never lucky." His hand tightened on Mouse's shoulder. His eyes narrowed. He let the human feel his desperation and determination, knowing that he was too thick to catch the desperation. "I'm not an assassin. I'm a thug at best. I was willing to kill for nothing when I came here, when I first met you. I've got a reason to kill now, I don't want anyone's interference again, and I _don't_. _Like_ you."

Mouse was frozen and thankfully mute. Kolyat took the opportunity to shove him back, into a wall, and straightened himself out. Vasaed still wasn't close by, but he didn't need to see anything like this.

Kolyat nodded towards his right, indicating the path he had come down: the way Mouse had likely followed him. "You followed me from C-Sec to the Wards. I went home. You gave up waiting."

The human nodded, and ran.

Kolyat looked at the other parents – they still didn't notice anything – then made as though he was following Mouse as the duct rat ran off. Just in case, making sure he didn't double-back. When he was certain the human was gone, he turned back around and made his way to the school again. Vasaed was waiting by the doors, sitting on a bench. He slid off as soon as he saw his father, took Kolyat's index finger in his stubby little hand and started to follow the familiar path home. He'd fallen into the habit of late where he'd immediately launch into what he'd learned: he didn't wait to be asked anymore. This time they made it well away from the school and into the elevator down to the Wards before he spoke up. Kolyat, so absorbed in his thoughts, hadn't even noticed. "You're sad," Vasaed noted.

"No, just-" He stopped himself. His mother had never admitted it when she worried and that was the example he was trying to follow. He did his best to clear the tension from his face as he looked down at the kid. Thought up a decent lie. "Work isn't always fun. You should be glad you don't have to go yet."

"School's like work."

Kolyat couldn't help smiling just a little. "You don't know that yet. You haven't tried both."

"…I bet they're the same."

"Tell you what. In fifteen years or so when you get a job we'll have this talk again. If you're right, I'll buy you that Milk Sheik toy."

x

When Vasaed started experiencing vivid memory recall, he was disturbed by himself. Kolyat had to explain what it is, what it means, why drell do it. He tried his best, and he hoped it was a good enough explanation. He wouldn't know until it was too late to do anything. Vasaed processed things like that slowly, and indicated when something was wrong with even less speed. He came to breakfast one morning with an eye infection that overwhelmed his entire right eye – it was so puffy he couldn't even open it. He had to miss school and go to the med clinic. The doctor levelled a very accusatory stare at Kolyat when she remarked that the infection should have been treated sooner. She didn't believe that Vasaed hadn't complained about it before. She took his son aside to ask him privately, but even that didn't convince her.

He hadn't seen Kolyat going into any sort of trance, so Vasaed had assumed there was something wrong with himself. He didn't remember his mother doing it either and inadvertently revealed why in one of his earlier lapses – a pat on the head, distant eyes staring through him, a grimace that was used to be a smile: "be good". Then the click of a door. Solitude. Absolute silence for hours. Kolyat had stared for so long, feeling so horrified that Vasaed had retreated to his room to avoid scrutiny – it was the first time he'd responded to any sort of uncomfortable situation.

With that revelation, Kolyat had resolved to let his son see that he wasn't alone. He left the lids off of things that filled the apartment with a familiar smell – things that reminded him of growing up. He bought a warm lamp, stood it behind the couch and kept it running constantly – they both came to favour that spot, and started getting into tickle-fights over the rights to it. Compromise was usually won with Vasaed sitting on his knee – there they would watch a vid together. The first time they sat under it Kolyat told him all about reading in the sun, and Vasaed had dragged the data pad off of the table – scratching it – so that he could read 'Run Pyjak, Run' again. He wondered if the kid just wanted to emulate the story, if he wanted that sort of memory for himself, or if he was trying to make Kolyat feel happier. He wasn't that empathic, was he? No, he couldn't have caught on.

Then Vasaed started getting interested in music. Kolyat didn't even think about it until he found himself coming out of another trance. And there was Vasaed, right there. Curious as ever.

"What's crazy dance?"

He tried to hide his flinching. If Vasaed saw, he didn't react. It was rare for him to react to anything – he was as impassive as a hanar. Those big curious eyes were fixed on him and waited patiently for an answer, so Kolyat cobbled one together awkwardly. "It's something my father and I would do when I was your age. He'd pick me up and spin me around until I couldn't walk straight."

Vasaed nodded as he considered this. "Did you ever throw up?"

Kolyat actually grinned. "Once. Right on his shoe."

Vasaed smiled back at him. He did a lot more of that these days. He was comfortable, relaxed in his new home. He was used to having a parent there with him when he came home from school. He liked it, liked the change. He liked his father, and even if he felt like he got nothing else right Kolyat was glad for that. He was beyond glad, really: moved in a way he hadn't expected. He was _proud_, but not in a selfish way. It made him feel worthy. "I didn't know you had a dad."

"Everyone has one. Even asari call their second parent their dad."

"Your dad must be really old."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You're old."

Kolyat tweaked his son's nose. "Everyone's old when you're just a baby."

x

The school started asking him about cultural concessions. How were they supposed to accommodate a drell child? They didn't know. There weren't enough resources on drell culture that they could take an educated guess. Kolyat didn't know what to tell them. What concessions did they think were necessary? Why were they asking? After a meeting, it emerged that Vasaed was having trouble fitting in. The other children didn't know how to talk to him, and he didn't provide them much to work with. When Kolyat told them that this wasn't a 'drell thing', they recommended a shrink – one who specialised in emotional development in young children.

He didn't know whether to yell at them or…or what. Was something wrong and it'd just gone right over his head? Vasaed didn't talk quickly, he didn't run at the mouth like most children did, but that didn't mean anything was wrong with him. It was a _quirk_. That'd be a mental problem if it was a problem at all, and the teachers assured him that his son was doing better than 'alright' where it came to school work – his interactions with his peers was the concern. But Kolyat couldn't think what would be holding him back from making friends. Yeah, sure, the kid was a bit serious – turians raised their children severely in some more traditionalist families, so serious children weren't news to a Citadel school. Was it the memory recall thing? The school would have specified that Vasaed was abruptly breaking into disturbing memory monologues if that was it. Kolyat couldn't pull together an answer out of his own head, and he wasn't about to just throw his kid to a shrink – that sat alongside 'giving up' in his mind. No, he was going to see, going to try to figure out if there was something he'd missed.

Vasaed was observant. _That_ was a 'drell thing' – he wished he could've said that to all those nosy, assumptive teachers. But they were way out of the picture when Vasaed asked about the meeting. "Am I in trouble?"

"What? _No_! …What? Why would you-?" Kolyat cringed at himself. Nicely done. "Why do you think you're in trouble?"

"My teachers wanted to talk to you. They call the parents of a student when something's wrong."

"Oh." He ought to lie. Friends were a big deal to kids, or they should be. Well, maybe not that. They iusually/i were a big deal, at least. If Vasaed was in the least bit feeling alone at school, there was no way to say 'so I hear you're unpopular' without putting up walls between them. It'd nearly been a _year_ and Kolyat still didn't feel like he could do anything but walk on glass around the kid. He used to think that he'd be less worried when Vasaed was settled in, but now there was even imore/i that he could screw up for his son. It ate at him like a flesh-consuming virus. "Look…" he began uneasily. "They're worried about you. It's nothing you've done wrong, and it's up to you one way or another if you want to or not, but these teachers…they think that you should be making friends with the other students."

Vasaed – sitting on the couch under the warm lamp – tilted his head to the side and evaluated the admission. Kolyat didn't feel awkwardness in those silences anymore: nowadays he took those moments as a blessed reprieve from the Million Question Game and used them to get other things done. In this case, he started scavenging up something for them to eat. "What would I talk to the other kids about? The teachers don't let me share answers."

"I…wait a minute. Do the other kids ask for your help?"

"Yeah."

A good parent would tell him to stop doing that. Kolyat knew that. But the ethics of test-taking weren't as important to him as making sure Vasaed didn't grow up feeling weird about himself. "Actually, if you're careful and make sure none of the teachers see or hear you, go ahead and help them out. Just remember that you're not supposed to be doing it."

"Then why do it?"

"Well, it's…" Kolyat cringed at himself and tried to think of how to explain where he'd been going with that idea. How was he supposed to explain doing what was right versus doing what was liked by others, without setting himself up for future parent-teacher meetings about things he couldn't even think of? "Alright, remember that episode of the Animated Milk Sheik Series where Milk Sheik sneaks the secret formula to the good guys from Baron Lactose's base?"

"'Sheiked Not Stirred'. I liked that one."

"Yeah, well it's kind of like that. He didn't have to, the good guys would've probably figured it out on their own eventually – they're smart good guys, right?"

"Right."

"But he did it anyway because they were stuck. And they were all happy that he did it, weren't they?"

"Yeah." Vasaed thought about the idea for a while. "It's not exactly like that, is it?"

"Not really. But the other kids will probably appreciate it if you help them."

"They did. One of the turians tried to give me her lunch to thank me."

Kolyat froze up.

"But I couldn't eat it."

"And thank Arashu that you _knew_ that…" he muttered quietly, briefly resting his forehead against a cupboard.

Vasaed was silent for a moment. Kolyat let him be and fished around on a shelf for the plates, privately wondering what his son hadn't been taught about the other species' yet. There had to be gaps in information still, Vasaed was only young and-. "I don't know what to talk to the other kids about."

"Huh?" Oh. Yes. The current topic of conversation. "Ah. Well…what do they talk about?"

"All kinds of things. What they're going to be when they grow up. The vids they like. Their parents. Where they're going on school vacation." Vasaed paused again. "I can't always talk about that stuff."

"You can always start new conversations. You do it with me all the time."

"I ask you questions."

"Hah. Yeah, and see? That works." Kolyat spared a grin and braced his hands on the counter, pausing for a moment to give Vasaed all his attention. "My boss told me once that the most interesting person he ever talked to never said a word about himself. He just asked all the questions and let other people do the rest."

Vasaed stared at him for a long moment, then smiled just a little. "That sounds easy."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

He'd hold off on booking that shrink.

x

"Krios. About time you showed up."

"I was tracking those six Eclipse men you wanted me to keep an eye on. They don't move at my convenience."

"No smart-mouthing from you. I'm not in the mood."

It wasn't rare for Kolyat to see the inside of Bailey's office. He wasn't officially a part of the place, not in the capacity he was being utilized anyway: every meeting had to be conducted quietly, even if it was in plain sight. The Commander would usher him in, seal the door and do a cursory sweep of the place for bugs. Then they'd get right to business – people that needed to be tailed, evidence that needed to be scouted before it could be seized, and so on: basically, Kolyat was there to do anything that C-Sec couldn't do themselves without jumping through bureaucratic hoops and long waiting periods. Bailey managed to word it creatively enough that it was called 'community service' in the courts, but at the same time slipped it into C-Sec's payroll as a 'rookie' position. It was a favour the man didn't owe him. Kolyat had been doing his best to repay him for that, though knew he was falling short of expectations now.

'Now', Bailey was irritably tapping his omni-tool and processing for bugs. In the interim he glared at the drell. Kolyat tried not to show the dread that was settling in his gut. There was a chance, a slim chance that Bailey was just going to lay into him about his various 'breaks'. Demand another explanation. Threaten him a little more with prison. That was-

"I thought when you started peeling off that you were getting into bad habits." The Commander crossed his arms and levelled a stare at him with almost tangible disappointment there. "You dodged work and I couldn't figure out why. Or for what. All I knew was that it couldn't be good news, not after the effort you put into scaring off Mouse."

Kolyat felt his jaw set tightly. So much for slim chances. "…I'd hoped that wasn't you who put him up to it."

"Don't you get self-righteous on me." Bailey sat down heavily behind his desk, making the chair squeal. "I wouldn't have. I hated doing it. You've been keeping a damn big secret. When I clued into that, I needed to make sure it wasn't the kind of secret that'd bite me in the ass."

There was no point in pretences. Kolyat tried to relax, but couldn't. He tried to reason with himself that he wasn't in the wrong, but Bailey's disappointment was still _there_. He tried to tell himself he didn't care, but that didn't take at all. "It's nothing to do with you. Personal information wasn't a part of this set-up."

"Uh huh. Who else have you been keeping out of this 'personal' thing?"

Kolyat's lip curled back. "I'm not leaving it up to anyone to decide when they get to drop into Vasaed's life. If they're not around now, they won't be later."

"For Chrissakes-"

"How do you even know? Mouse?"

"Mouse clams up whenever I say your name. It was…look. Doctors need to make a report whenever a kid looks like they're in bad shape. Any sort of bad shape. A drell kid popped up with your people's equivalent of pinkeye or whatever. Your name and relation to the kid was on the admittance sheet." Bailey shook his head and waved out a hand, gesturing for Kolyat to take the seat opposite him. "It won't look good if you keep dodging your 'community service'. The courts will get involved again, the prosecution will see this on top of what you've been charged with. It'll get easier for them to sink you. Then what happens?"

Kolyat stayed standing, now sort of compressing into himself. Tensing. He didn't need to know 'then what'. It was pretty easy to guess. Continued noncompliance, when the charge he was avoiding had been knocked down to unlawful imprisonment, would get him a short sentence. Six months had felt like nothing when he'd been weighing up his options at the beginning of all this, before Bailey had worked out how to make him useful to C-Sec. Now even a week was too long. "I'm only unavailable for a few hours every day. I get back to work once Vasaed's asleep and when he's in school. That's most of the day. You can't complain."

"That's how you pronounce the kid's name, is it? I wondered." Bailey finally softened up a bit, relaxing in his seat somewhat. "You'll work yourself dead like that. What happened to the kid's mother?"

"Suicide."

"You're shitting me."

"She was depressed when I knew her. I think she'd been looking for something to care about. She underestimated what it meant to have a kid, I guess. It all built up."

"…Did the kid see it?"

"No. She…they basically existed separately once he could walk and put food in his own mouth. She only made sure he prayed and got to school."

"Not much of a mother."

"I didn't exactly have that in mind when I-"

Bailey held up his hands. "Fair enough. Jesus, son. I don't want a memory trance worth of details."

Kolyat finally took up that offered seat. All he was doing was enumerating his problems, but it felt igood/i. Liberating. And now that he'd started, he couldn't shut himself up. "That _bitch_ of a doctor wouldn't listen to me. Vasaed doesn't complain about anything. He's…his mother gave up early: that's the example he started with. He's still getting used to telling me when there's a problem. He's still trying to work out what problems _are_. If I'd known he was sick, if I could've seen it before his whole eye swelled shut overnight, I'd have taken him to the clinic _that minute_."

"Calm down, Krios. I know you, I know the kid's not in any danger. It's just procedure. Hell, it's not even a charge or a real black mark. It's not why I wanted to talk, either." The Commander shook his head and scratched the back of his ear. A nervous habit, Kolyat had learned. "You know what I'm going to ask. Is it gonna piss you off less if I say it, or if you just guess it?"

"I'm not telling him."

"He'll find out."

"Not the usual way. Not through that duct rat."

"He'll still find out."

"Will you tell him? Or Shepard?"

"Not if you ask me not to."

"Then _don't_."

"I'm just saying. He'll know one day." Bailey made a conceding shrug. "If he's got that kind of time left, anyway. Wasn't he doing poorly when you last saw him?"

Kolyat narrowed his eyes. "That's not going to convince me, Commander. That's even more reason _not_ to tell him. I'm the first consistent thing in Vasaed's life. I'm not throwing him a grandparent who's just going to be a drop in the ocean by the time his next birthday comes around."

"You don't think your old man would still wanna know?"

"Don't call him that. It's not about what he wants. It's not even about me." He shook his head, closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his face. "I bet you think I don't want him around because of me, because of what I want. Well, I don't…but it goes further than that now. Do you know what I'd tell him if I wrote to him about Vasaed? The first thing I'd say? 'Don't visit'. Even if he stuck around, he'd be dead by the time my son got used to him. What then? Once again, there's a broken-hearted little kid left behind. At least this one would still have a father."

"What about what Vasaed wants?"

"Vasaed wants to sit on the couch under the warm lamp and have me read to him. He wants to go to school and tell all the other kids in his class the answers to the test when they struggle. He wants to understand what I do for a living. He wants a Blasto plush toy." Kolyat closed his eyes and tried not to think too hard about what he was saying. It was just simple statements; he wasn't even scratching the real surface yet, so why did it feel like it was breaking his heart? "Vasaed's mother didn't teach him anything about people or how to act around them. It took months for him to get the idea of what a good parent is supposed to be like, and what he can expect out of me while I'm trying to be one. He didn't understand why I thought he might miss Kahje or anyone on it. There's all these gaps in his head and he's trying to figure them out. He's only just starting to figure out what 'friends' are, Commander. I can't fuck things up for him any more than I already do. I can't tell Thane about him, because I'll have to _explain_ Thane to him. What'll he think, that he's supposed to grow up to hate his father? That fathers eventually just walk away from their families? That's the impression he'd get. I can't talk to Thane in front of him - I don't trust myself not to bring all that up. I won't confuse him like that and I don't know how to make him understand in the first place."

Bailey waited patiently until Kolyat opened his eyes again. The human still had something going on in his head, it was apparent in his expression, but he vocalised his point of view before Kolyat could dissolve into paranoid speculation. "The kid's got some damage, then."

"His school recommended a psychiatrist-"

"Aw, Christ…"

"-But he's already improving without that. We started talking about it more when I realised how far these 'gaps' went. I'm still going to book the woman anyway, I think. You know, just to see if she can't help him some more."

"Yeah, don't get my opinion on that. I've automatically got something against anyone who thinks they know more about my head than I do." Bailey waved a dismissive hand. "Maybe kid shrinks are different."

"What sort are you familiar with?"

"Marriage councillors."

Kolyat grimaced.

"Hah! Yeah, it was a bit like that," the Commander said with a grin. He let the grin diminish just as quickly as it came on, drummed his fingers against his desktop a few times, then shook his head and stood up. "I'll drop this whole thing in a second. There's just one last thing I want you to think about."

"What's that?"

"His mother's dead. You can't name a relative in your family that you like or trust. What's going to happen to your boy if something happens to you?"

Kolyat opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He felt his eyes glaze over as he asked himself that question in his head, over and over: what would happen? The answer swirled around for a long time before it made its way out of his mouth in a hushed voice. "…I don't know."

"Yeah. So I figure you've got another problem. You could send him to his mother's family, if she had one, but since you got him in this state I bet you don't trust them either. I hear the hanar have a program for orphaned drell, but a lot of 'em end up like your old man. I know you wouldn't want that. The only other option's the Citadel social services, but that's no good for a boy that needs stability and a real guiding hand. He'll come out more damaged than you got him." The Commander paused. "Kid, you might not _want_ to tell Thane, but he could be the only person who can help you with this."

Every word, every syllable made him want to get up and leave. Made him want to punch the Commander right in the mouth, and screw the consequences. It made him want to run. "Why are you _pushing_ this?"

"I shouldn't be. It's not my business, but I figure…you're here, and you're talking. I'll bet I'm the first person you've talked to about this." Bailey didn't wait for an affirmation: he just plowed right on in true Commander Bailey form. "This is most of what being a parent's about, Krios. You're going to have to do things that chip at your pride, and you'll hate it but you'll do them anyway. You do them and you hope it's best for your kid."

"How will you know if you've done things right? I can't tell if I'm-"

"Hell, I'm still waiting to figure that one out myself."


End file.
